


beginner's kazakh

by lisafrankcave



Series: Untitled Modern AU Project [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AFAB Apprentice (The Arcana), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crushes, Dorks in Love, Embarrassment, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Meet-Cute, Modern AU, Named Apprentice (The Arcana), Nonbinary Apprentice (The Arcana), Other, Soft Muriel (The Arcana), extremely low-stakes angst, romantic comedy of errors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:35:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26998285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisafrankcave/pseuds/lisafrankcave
Summary: Kore has a crush on her best friend's other best friend, and wants to impress him by learning about the language and culture of his people before their next meeting.  One problem: she forgot to ask if he even knew the language before throwing herself into it....
Relationships: Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana), Muriel (The Arcana)/Original Character(s)
Series: Untitled Modern AU Project [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970461
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	beginner's kazakh

**Author's Note:**

> credit to apprenticeofcups for Muriel's surname and his and Asra's Modern AU backstories; they're good concepts that I like a lot!  
> inspired by a conversation on Discord about the concept of my Muriel main, Kore, throwing herself into learning Kazakh to impress him shortly after meeting him, only to find out that he does not, in fact, know much Kazakh at all.  
> Kore is nonbinary and uses she/her or they/them pronouns; she also prefers gender-neutral language (ie: person, partner, etc.)

Kore stared at the used textbook sitting in her online shopping cart, hovering the mouse over the checkout button. 'Kazakh for Beginners: A Comprehensive Self-Study Guide.' About thirty dollars before shipping. She sighed, rubbing her temples and begrudgingly clicked the next-day shipping option. 

“Well, if all else fails, at least I learn something new,” Kore justified the purchase to herself. 

“Muriel Rachimov,” he’d introduced himself. Muriel was Asra’s oldest friend, a grown-up foster kid who’d recently hit thirty and made a living in carpentry and other crafts, which he was selling from his booth at the local craft fair, two tables down from Kore. He was taller than her (not many people were), dark-haired, muscular build. As much as he tried, his resting bitch face couldn’t hide a pair of kind green eyes. Kore remembered feeling kind of nauseous, the thought of “ _oh fuck_ ” hitting her like a brick. 

“Lovely name, Rachimov,” she’d responded, wrapping her mouth around it; she liked how it felt. 

“Where’s it from?” She blurted it out almost without thinking. _Shit_ , she thought. _Shit_ , she said the wrong thing; _shit_ , that could have been a sore spot. 

“It’s Kazakh,” he mumbled, gluing his eyes squarely onto the craft supply magazine he’d been looking at before the conversation started. Kore dropped the subject, but kept it on the back burner; she made a mental note to look up the Kazakh language later that day. She chose instead to linger at his booth as he set up, asking whatever question came to mind. 

Muriel had never been asked so many questions about himself in his life. _How long have you been carving? What about painting? Any other hobbies? Are those Merrells—do you hike?_ He answered as brusquely as he could, trying to act aloof and disinterested when, inside, he was flustered, maybe even _interested_. Sometime after making a small purchase from him, Kore was visibly distancing herself from the conversation, fearing that she had crossed a line or annoyed a relative stranger, backing away from the stall when he surprised both of them. 

“W-wait!” He sputtered, getting up from his chair. Kore froze where she stood, turning back to face him. 

If you don’t mind, we can...talk later. About stuff.” He mumbled, barely audible, a faint hint of a blush painting his cheeks and nose. Muriel was _not_ about to admit that he wanted to know more about her. 

“I know a teahouse that's a real conversation starter,” Asra interrupted them with a suggestion, a knowing glimmer in his eye as he spoke. 

So, it was decided: conversation at a funky tea house, somewhere downtown. All three of them. After packing up their stuff at the fair. 

The knowing look never faded, from the moment Kore opened the door for Muriel to the tiniest hint of pink on Muriel’s cheeks when his hand brushed hers while she handed him a recently poured cup of tea. It deepened to a grin when Muriel snorted at one of her jokes after nearly an hour of giving her crickets. 

By the end, he was asking almost as many questions about her as she had asked about him. _What kind of clay do you work with? You go hiking alone? Like, alone alone? Which bread is your favorite? Have you ever considered soap making?_ Kore could barely remember what all they’d talked about but, somehow, her brain had woven a vivid tapestry of every little acknowledgement, every brush of the hand, every smile and laugh and gentle tease. She was smitten. Asra’s knowing look had morphed into a smug little smile by the time they walked out to her car. 

“You like him.” 

Asra had barely closed the door of Kore’s Impreza before a singsong, lilting accusation was being thrown her way. Annoyingly enough, he knew her too well for her to deny it. 

“I do...ah, fuck.” Kore admitted it to herself and her best friend, laughing weakly before groaning, loudly and with great anguish, into her steering wheel. 

The moment she got home, her browsing history was an open book of how to read your crush’s body language and the difficulty of learning Kazakh as a beginner. The textbook arrived the next day, spine covered in a few semesters’ worth of yellow “USED” stickers, thunked unceremoniously at her doorstep. She picked it up after a long workshop in her studio, buzzing with so much excitement she dropped her keys. Kore had about five days to learn a few basics, plus some things about art and culture, before he had stated he would visit during her office hours on Friday with his dog. Five days was _not_ a lot of time. 

The following five days was a blur of cramming as much information as she could in her spare time, trying to memorize the Cyrillic alphabet one day and figuring out pronunciation via what she could find on YouTube the next, practicing and recording herself to catch mistakes. She found herself dropping fun facts about Kazakh embroidery and ceramics to her co-workers, even letting it slip to Asra at some point. Yes, it was a lot of learning and a lot of work, but Muriel was not an easy man to impress. 

From what she could gather, “it’s not the worst” was a compliment coming from him. He grumbled about being dragged to outings and craft fairs, he scoffed when Asra dropped less-than-subtle hints that he was single and needed some friends, and complained that the teahouse was ‘too crowded’ when all but three tables there were empty. The thought of getting something wrong or doing too much was devastating, and she grew more and more fearful of it as the week went on. 

Finally, the day arrived. _Wake up, study notes, practice in the shower, practice while getting dressed. Don’t wear the same outfit as last time, pick something nicer, no mascara on the cheeks, wear the comfy clogs just in case there’s walking._ She went over the phrases in total silence while driving, got antsy waiting for her 10 am class to be over, and let it out early to fix her hair, brush her teeth again, check her makeup. The moment Kore left the restroom, Muriel was waiting outside her office door. 

There he stood: dark ponytail, denim jacket with Sherpa lining, green plaid flannel, cuffed black jeans. One arm cradled a small brown paper bag of loose-leaf tea close to his chest, the other held tightly to a leash attached to a massive black “more-wolf-than-dog" kind of dog. The scent of vanilla, pine, and incense grew stronger as she approached her companions. A euphoric nausea fluttered inside her, and she took a deep breath. 

“Uh, hi.” _Great start_ , she deadpanned to herself. 

“Hi,” he replied, startled, before gesturing at his dog. “This is Inanna. Inanna, Kore.” 

“Hi, Inanna,” Kore greeted, dropping her keys the minute she fished them out of her bag. Muriel immediately bent down to pick them up, but Inanna beat him, picking the keys up with her teeth and nudging Kore’s hand with her nose. 

“Show-off.” Muriel snorted, watching Kore scratch Inanna’s ears as the keys dropped from Inanna’s mouth into her other hand. 

“Speaking of showing off, uh, I have something to ask you.” Trying desperately to play it cool and casual, or as much as she could while wiping the dog spit off of her keys, Kore tried to steer the conversation in the get-it-over-with direction. 

“Oh?” The corners of Muriel’s mouth tipped upwards, ever so subtly, his brows raised in mild amusement and curiosity. 

Kore took a deep breath, feeling the world grow fuzzy and blanking out as the words left her mouth. 

“Qalıñ qalay? Sizben bïlewge bola ma?” She waited, heart pounding in her chest, for his response, hoping that she hadn’t missed a word and she at least had a passable accent. 

“Um….” he trailed off, expression blank. Kore felt her face grow hot as her stomach turned, gaze affixed firmly to the door in front of her. Even with all the possible ways she’d thought this exchange could go wrong, the possibility of him _not even knowing the language_ had slipped her mind completely. 

“...Was that Kazakh?” The realization dawned on him quickly, and he suddenly had several questions. 

Kore nodded slowly and silently, bringing her clean hand to her face to hide behind it and cool down her burning cheeks. 

Muriel looked at her fogged glasses and 'I-want-to-disappear' body language and decided the questions could wait. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck before admitting, “I don’t speak or understand much of it, sorry….” 

Kore inhaled sharply and gave him a strained smile that didn’t meet her eyes, fumbling with her keys until the door opened. Finally, she replied, voice a little shaky, “Don’t worry about it, I-uh, I shouldn’t have assumed.” 

She continued avoiding his gaze, fearing that she’d further embarrass herself by crying. Walking into her office, she paused in a corner to pinch the bridge of her nose and take a few deep breaths. Muriel sauntered in after her, taking a seat across from her desk as Inanna laid at his feet, tail thumping the rug under her. She took a seat at her desk, finally looking at his face for the first time in several minutes: no disdain or disgust, no smugness, just a softened version of his resting expression, mixed with mild concern. It instantly put her at ease. 

“Kore...you learned Kazakh?” He asked, almost incredulously. 

Kore nodded, laughing a little at the absurdity of learning a new language just to impress her crush. “Just a little, but yeah, I kinda did.” 

“In a week?” He seemed dumbfounded but equally amused, tone slightly teasing. 

“Practiced every day,” she admitted, adding, “Just the Cyrillic alphabet and two or three basic sentences, hello, how are you, things like that.” 

“That’s three more sentences than I know,” he said, amused. 

“Well, I wanted to impress you and maybe have something new in common.” _Might as well tell the whole mortifying truth_ , Kore figured. 

“Kore…” he trailed off, every second he didn’t speak seeming like minutes at a time. Finally, he spoke, cheeks a little rosy. 

“...This week, I bought an Italian phrase book, checked out three library books about pottery, and put _way_ too much thought into making that tea.” He avoided her gaze, face bright pink, and pushed the bag towards Kore, who brushed his hand lightly as she picked it up. 

“So, we’re even?” She adjusted her glasses, reading the label on the tea and blushing upon realizing it was hand-blended by him, labelled in scratchy handwriting with ‘ _Cardamom + Rose Black Tea for Kore_.’ 

“We’re even,” Muriel replied with a snort. 

“I take it that means we’re still on for tea, then?” Kore raises an eyebrow at him, clutching the tea to her chest. 

“Tea, a studio tour, an impromptu lecture about clay...whatever,” he grumbled, but continued to smile at her. Kore clapped her hands in excitement before getting up and walking to the door, placing a hand on the back of his chair. 

“Come on,” she said, “The tea’s not gonna make itself.” 

The walk to the break room was peppered with casual conversation about student and faculty work hung in the hallways, punctuated by Inanna’s paws padding the floor. As they approached the break room, Muriel spoke up about something that had been bothering him, one of those burning questions he’d had when she’d tried to start a conversation in Kazakh. 

“What, exactly, did you say to me earlier?” Muriel asked as he stood awkwardly in the middle of the makeshift kitchenette. 

“I asked how you were feeling, and then asked if you wanted to dance with me.” Kore set the tea on the counter, grinning and wiggling her eyebrows over her shoulder at him, before turning away to fill the electric kettle with water. 

Muriel paused for a minute, comprehending the information he’d just received, before getting a look on his face that fell somewhere between shock, horror, and confusion. 

“I’m a _horrible_ dancer,” he sputtered. 

“But would you have said yes?” Kore tilted her head to one side, raising her eyebrows once again as she waited for a response. 

“Yes—maybe? I don’t know!” He spat out contradictory answers in rapid succession, turning bright red before giving Inanna’s leash a gentle tug as he walked out of the break room. “I’ll be waiting for the water to boil. Outside.” 

Kore laughed, a loud and dorky cackle, before following him, clogs clacking against the floor. If this was what flirtation felt like, maybe the discomfort of taking a risk was worth it. 


End file.
